In Which Eddie Kaspbrak is Lonely
by CrutchieByTheWay
Summary: I posted this on a03 too, so sue me. Eddie Kaspbrak has friends, but can he help if he feels lonely, anyways? Richie Tozier wants to help.


A/N: I won't lie, this fic is definitely written for myself. I have felt quite out of place as a college student lately and this made me feel better :) Though I think this is messy writing, I'll get back on my other fics soon! I live off of words of affirmation, so please tell me what you think!

The summer before college was always a hard one. It wasn't like the summers of high school, or even middle school, where the Losers knew where they would be for the next year, and, even better, that they would have someone to sit next to at lunch. Sure, teachers and classes changed, but it was ultimately always the same buildings and always the same ideas.

Eddie Kaspbrak clung to his high school days with desperation. He liked having a schedule and knowing he would see his friends every day; the idea of getting used to a new place, a university at that, was quite terrifying. The only upside was that he would finally be leaving his mother; but, in that, also leaving Richie, Bill, Ben, Beverly, Stan, and Mike.

They would see each other, some of them going to the same school, and phone numbers always on speed dial; but when they met after their first semester of college, Eddie was sure things would feel different; too different.

He knew Beverly, Stan, and Richie would keep in touch. Beverly would stay in touch with Bill, Bill with Stan, and Ben with Beverly. Richie would always stay connected to Bill. Mike connected so well with everybody. They all intersected in each others lives, but Eddie was starting to feel like he didn't belong with them forever. Like, maybe he wasn't as crucial as he wanted to be. It wasn't making him sad, but more disappointed.

Being a Loser was cool, until you started to feel like a loser.

It started to be realized that something was bothering Eddie on a particularly hot day in July. Derry, Maine treated cool nights with warm sunny days, and Eddie, ornery as ever, had his arms wrapped around himself in a corner of Bill's living room. This weird feeling of his came often and whenever it pleased, though it never made sense. It didn't make sense when he lied in bed at night, or when he blamed the feeling on being an INFP, and it didn't make sense to come when he was there, surrounded by all of his friends. They were all laughing and teasing each other, but Eddie couldn't help but feel like he couldn't do it back.

Bill was the first to say something, but Richie was the first to see it.

"Eddie, what's wrong?" He paused the movie playing on the television, Eddie understood it to be one of the Spider-Man films. He tried to excuse it as him just being more into D.C. but his friends wouldn't have it.

Beverly grumbled, "you've said, like, two words this entire night. Something's wrong." Her words were accusing, but her tone was gentle.

"I'm just thinking," Eddie shrugged, stretching out his legs, his arms going towards the sky. Something in his back cracked and a small moan of relief came from his mouth.

Richie piped up, "that's new. Eds thinking."

Eddie scrunched his nose, grabbing a pillow off the floor and aiming for Richie's face. "Shut up, fucker. Don't call me that."

"Oh!" Richie caught the pillow as it hit his face, his glasses tilting awkwardly, "you finally start talking and it's to insult me? That's a low."

"Calling you 'fucker' is not an insult." Eddie pointed out, rolling his eyes.

Richie leaned back, sighing, "I guess not. I mean, it's just a job title your mom gave-"

"Beep beep, Richie." Stan groaned right before Richie could finish his sentence. His eyes were annoyed, knees turned towards Bill.

Ben, ever infatuated with Beverly, spoke, but his eyes were on her, "Richie, I don't think Eddie likes it when you talk like that."

"Oh," Richie drew out the syllable, aware that he could actually be a problem, but not enough to take it seriously, "Eds, dahlin', does me fucking your-"

Eddie stood up, mouth turned into a frown. "I have to go."

"What?" Bill was frowning, too. He easily hated the idea of Eddie leaving because of what someone said, assuming that it was Richie's doing.

Eddie gathered his things, zipping up his fanny pack before making a dash for the door before anyone could stand up. "Richie reminded me. It's my mother, she wants me home."

Ben started to stand up, "you're leaving because of Richie?"

"You're leaving because of me?" Richie did stand, limbs clumsily climbing over the others legs so he could catch up to Eddie. Even if he did have Eddie as the target to his jokes most of the time, he never intended on actually hurting him.

"No, not because of you, I just, I just-" Eddie was at the door, calling to the group, but unsure of how to finish his excuse. "I'll see you guys tomorrow!"

"Eds, don't leave like that." Richie nearly tripped while following.

"Jesus Christ, Richie, just, fuck-" Eddie was shaking while opening the door. He closed the door with a repeat of a goodbye.

By the time Richie was nearing the door, Eddie had closed it. Eddie could be heard outside, grabbing his bike and pedaling off. Turning back and walking to the living room, Richie moped.

"He left guys, I dunno." He mumbled, slumping back where he was sitting.

Beverly huffed, "and you didn't go after him?" her short red hair was growing longer, and moved nicely with every turn of her head.

"What do you-" Richie, always speaking with his hands, went forward in his seat, "Eds is an adult, I don't need to go after him."

"Well, someone should." Mike crossed his arms. "And Eddie being eighteen doesn't make him an adult.

Stan agreed, "Yeah, you're eighteen and you're fucking hopeless, Richie."

Beverly chuckled when Bill hit Stan with his hand lightly. It turned into a sad frown,, "I really think something is wrong."

"Y-Yeah," Bill nodded, "you can tuh-tuh-tell, he's been like that for weeks."

"And what am I supposed to do about that?" Richie mumbled, knowing well that he could do something. He was the only one that really understood Eddie, loved him far more than he probably should.

Beverly huffed, "you're supposed to go check on him."

"Get him back here!" Ben hopefully cheered.

"Maybe th-the popcorn was making him feel sick. He doesn't luh-luh-like a lot of butter." Bill pointed out.

Ben shook his head, "You know what he said, his mom wanted him home."

"You believed that awful lie?" Stan scoffed, "that's just what he says, he hasn't cared about what his mom wants in years."

Richie knew that. They all knew that.

"And I have to do it? I have to go check on him?" Richie spoke, deeply sighing. "He said he would see us tomorrow."

"Richie." Beverly met her eyes with Richie and Richie knew what she was going to try and say before she said it. "You know he'd want it to be you. He'll open up easiest to you."

"I don't know, he seemed really upset with what I said." Richie, upset himself, tapped his foot against the floor.

Stan spoke up, "it's more than that."

"I feel like everything I say lately bothers him." Richie placed his hands over his face.

"Maybe it's because-" Beverly tried to say something but Richie stopped her.

"It's not." Richie knew better than to think Eddie was upset with Richie more often because, as crazy as Richie would be to think, that he couldn't handle how he felt for Richie either. "He's upset, but maybe he's just really mad at me. Have I done something wrong?

Stan, eyes turned to the television, groaned, "Richie, go get your boyfriend already."

"He's not-"

"You know what I mean."

"I know." Richie closed his eyes. He knew it would be him going to get Eddie, but it was too hard to look at him when he was so sad, especially when Richie wanted to make him laugh all the time. His jokes never worked when Eddie was upset.

"Rich, c'mon, before he gets too far." Beverly jutted out her bottom lip.

Richie grumbled, "he'll probably get to his house before I catch up. I'll go meet him there." Richie stood up calmly and waved to the others while trekking back to the door. "I'll call you guys when I see him."

"No you won't. See you tomorrow." Beverly sounded much too proud of herself. They all knew, Beverly having a sneaking suspicion that Richie would eventually open up about how he felt. Perhaps it wouldn't be best to do so when Eddie was more upset about something than ever, but he'd have to say something eventually. He just needed a push.

"I'm not going to..." Richie mumbled before stopping the sentence. "It's not just because-"

"Richie, we know. Just go make sure he's okay." Beverly's eyes made it clear that she understood.

Without another word, Richie left the house, pedaling away as quick as he could to Eddie's house.

It was without question now to the Losers that Eddie was acting differently. So, of course, Richie was climbing up his window to try and make him feel better. He tapped on the glass without checking to see if Eddie was in his room; if something was wrong, Richie assumed that Eddie would have locked himself in his room. He knew him.

Luckily, Eddie was there. It had become a habit over the past few years that Eddie would triple-check to make sure his door was locked, just in case his mother thought to check up on him. This was unexpected, Richie at the window, but truly expected. What sort of night would it be anyways if Richie had not snuck into Eddie's room?

"Hey, Eds." Richie whispered.

Even if Eddie did expect Richie to be there, he either hadn't heard him, or ignored him completely. Peeking in, Richie saw a form lying in Eddie's bed, covered up in the bedsheets.

"Fuck." Richie said to himself. The form in bed moved and Richie knew he could be heard. He tapped on the window again.

"Eddie, I know you can hear me."

"Richie." Eddie whispered in a harsh tone, moving the blanket from his head. He looked tired and not like who Richie had seen not long ago. Richie thought for a moment that Eddie had run into Bowers on his way home, but there was no physical evidence on his face, other than redness and tears that Richie could see if he squinted.

"Eds."

"Go away."

"No. Let me in." Richie balanced himself and attempted to slide through the slightly open window. "Kind of rude of you to not fully open the window when you knew I was coming."

That made Eddie sit up. "I did not know you were coming. Idiot, open it yourself."

Richie pouted, his body half-inside and half-outside. "Eddie, I'm stuck."

"No, you're not." Eddie shot a glare at Richie. It softened when he realized Richie might actually be stuck. Sliding out of bed, he went to go help Richie.

"Oh, fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to let you get stuck-" Eddie opened the window more and helped Richie up.

Richie went limp with laughter, doubling over.

"What!" Eddie stepped back and sat down on his bed, demanding an answer for why Richie was laughing. "Why the fuck are you laughing at me?"

"I wasn't actually stuck!" Richie chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "You really thought I was stuck! Aw, you really came to help me, too cute!"

"Stop, fuckface!" Eddie threw a pillow from his bed at Richie's face, much like he had at Bill's house.

Richie didn't catch it, resulting in a much harsher hit, but it didn't stop his laughter. "Just knowing you would come save me, Eds, you are too good to me."

"Don't fucking call me that." Eddie lied down, pulling his sheets back over his head.

"Hey!" Richie continued laughing, shaking what he saw as Eddie's shoulder under the covers. "Hey, I'm sorry."

Eddie didn't respond. So, maybe tricking Eddie wasn't something he was in the mood to laugh about, Richie understood.

"Go away, Richie."

"You don't really mean that, Eds, c'mon, talk to me." Richie's voice came out much sweeter, worried for his friend.

Eddie turned, "I don't want to talk." The to you felt implied.

Richie's hand went to his heart, glad that Eddie couldn't see. "Eddie, seriously what's wrong with you.'

"Nothing's wrong with me." The words were icy, mean.

"No, nothing's wrong with you, but you've been such a fucking drag-" Richie coughed, trying to cover it up, "no, not like, that, you just seem so...sad."

Eddie was monotone, but something in his tone broke. "I'm not sad."

Richie had hardly been there for five minutes, but he already felt like he was on Eddie's level of defeat. Eddie usually opened up so easily, they could talk about anything and it took little words to do so.

"Can you look at me, then?" Richie could hear himself starting to plead. "Turn towards me, please?"

"No."

"Eds, we're getting nowhere."

"Okay. I didn't realize you sneaking into my room made it required that I explain anything to you."

"Seriously?"

Eddie went silent again and Richie, again, felt like he had fucked up his wording.

"Eddie."

No answer.

"Eddie."

No answer.

"Fine." Richie stood, going back towards the window. "You're so damn stubborn, Eds."

Eddie moved the sheets from his face. "Stop talking so loud, you want my mother in here?"

"She'll sleep through it."

"Shut up."

"Is that your best comeback tonight?" Richie turned back towards Eddie. Eddie was starting to cry, and that was never something Eddie liked to do in front of anyone. It was appalling to see. Richie had seen Eddie cry before, but usually he could make fun of him for it; he touched the spout of a water fountain or tripped, as long as Eddie wasn't seriously hurt, Richie could laugh at him. Eddie could laugh in these moments, too. But, Richie couldn't laugh when he didn't understand what hurt so bad.

"Everyone's worried about you, Eds." Richie started, lowering his stance. "Bev, Stan, everyone. They sent me over here to check on you, all right? That's all. I'll go if you need."

"Don't."

Richie paused, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "You don't want me to?"

"No." Eddie was one of few words at the moment. "Stay. But I still don't want to talk."

"To me?" Richie questioned, stepping forward with his finger pointed to his chest.

Eddie scoffed. He always wanted to talk to Richie, and maybe that was the problem. He wasn't going to always talk to him, not every moment of every day like they did over the summers. Next summer could be different and everything felt so different.

"Fine. You don't want to talk, I get it. But I'm worried about you, Eddie Spaghetti, why did you leave today?'

Eddie took a deep breath, trying to make it look like he wasn't crying, even if Richie could see the tears. "I just didn't want to stay."

"Is that really it?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Eddie was surprised when Richie sat down on his bed with nothing else to say. He lied down without invitation, snuggling his head into one of Eddie's many pillows.

"Okay." Eddie repeated. His head was still turned away.

They sat like that for a long time, Eddie focusing on his breathing and Richie tapping his fingers against the bed just in case Eddie needed to count how long he held in his breath.

It might've been this pure form of intimacy that made Eddie want to talk. It hadn't been long, maybe five minutes, ten minutes of listening to each other breath when Eddie slowly sat up.

"Richie." His voice was croaky, not like him, "If I talk, you have to take it seriously."

Richie sat up much quicker, "what, of course I'll take it seriously!"

"Richie." Eddie repeated, more threatening. "I'm serious, you can't make a joke about it."

"I won't." Richie promised, making the most direct of direct eye contact he could. "I swear."

Eddie grumbled, turning his body towards Richie. "I just don't want it to sound like I'm asking you to be my fucking therapist."

"You're not!" Richie, desperate to clearance, heightened his tone, "talk to me like I'm just your friend Richie."

Eddie paused, not able to help but crack a smile, a sad one. "You are my friend Richie."

Was it bad Richie's heart skipped at how Eddie left out the just; like it was possible to replace the words and labels were just temporary.

"Thank God, then," Richie, proud, smiled back, "it'll be easy to talk to me like I'm Richie if I am."

Eddie wanted to say something about how it didn't entirely make sense and it was sort of a confusing way to word things, but he didn't. Instead, he let the tension ease and his shoulders fall. His hands stayed in Richie's. "You're an idiot."

Richie grinned, showing all of his teeth. It was charming in a bit of an ugly way, Richie purposely trying to make Eddie laugh. "So I've been told."

"Yeah?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, his words edging on a tease that Richie wanted to hold onto.

Richie nodded, "yeah," he craned his neck down so his face could be closer to Eddie's. His voice teased, too.

Not continuing what he thought might have been flirting, Eddie took a deep breath, taking up Richie's offer to say why he had been acting different.

What Eddie said next was spoken so low, Richie swore he must have heard it wrong, though he didn't dare ask for any clearance. Eddie was so soft himself, his own voice might've broken him if he raised it any louder.

"Richie, I think I am lonely."

"Lonely." Richie repeated the last word, much louder than Eddie, resulting in a flinch.

"Yeah."

"Why?" Richie shook, his thumbs pinching at the rest of his fingers, like he was secretly trying to figure out if he was in a dream.

"I don't know. I don't know, I think that..." Eddie drew his breath, trying to be careful with what he said. He was always one to word things as carefully as he could; being selective with your words came with a lot of silence. "Yes, I think I am lonely."

Richie started to ask why again, but Eddie wouldn't let him.

"I think that, I just want, not in a selfish way, fuck, no not in a selfish way, I want to be everything to someone." The look in Richie's eyes caught Eddie off-guard. They were so intent on listening. Eddie kept talking.

"I feel like I just sort of exist, I guess. I feel like you have Beverly and she has you. Stan and Bill have each other, Ben has Beverly, she has him. Mike has everyone. And, I guess, I mean, I have you, but it's different. It's different. I think that you guys love me, really, I do. But everything I feel lately, it's like I'm trying to replace this hole in my heart with-"

"With what?"

"I don't know." Eddie gasped, "I guess, I think that romantic love and platonic love don't go hand-in-hand, and I'm trying to replace the hole for romantic love with my friends love, but I can't do that when the person I care most about I want to be romantic and, and,-" he was saying so much at once and it was going to be too much to understand. "It's hard to replace the love you need when it feels like you aren't liked either."

Eddie searched more for any glimpse of an answer in Richie's eyes.

"Can I do anything?" Richie begged the question, "can I love you more? You know I do, we've been friends this long."

Eddie rolled his eyes, feeling like Richie hadn't understood what he meant, though he was blushing madly now. He froze. Eddie couldn't say that Richie's love wasn't what he wanted. He practically needed it, but he couldn't say so, not now. Not here, with annoying tears in his eyes laughing at how vulnerable he was. "I know you do. I want you to like me." He decided. "I really want you to like me."

When Richie didn't say anything this time, Eddie kept going.

"And, and, and, this isn't me saying that I don't love myself, or anything fucking annoying like that. Not that that's annoying, I just mean, it's annoying for me to say. I do love myself, I think. I think you, and Bev, and Bill, everyone, I think you love me as a person. But, I want you to like me. It's so fucking selfish, I want you guys to think I'm this brilliant person and tell me you'll miss me when I'm gone and-" he paused, shaking as he continued, "I want to feel like when I leave for college, I can come back. I want you to miss me. Is that selfish?"

"No." Richie choked out, his own feelings making him shake. Eddie could hardly notice, so focused on everything he felt and was. This was difficult to take in, the tone of their conversation had changed drastically in seconds.

"I am lonely. I have friends, but I am lonely. I start crying and lashing out every time I think about it. It's why I left today, and that doesn't excuse it. But that's why. I'm not sad, I'm not, I'm fine. I'm just lonely."

The two of them were met with a silence that did not feel empty. Richie had a million thoughts in his head, all of them being about how badly he wanted to help Eddie. Eddie had one thought; relieved he finally said what he needed to.

What Richie said next was quite dangerous territory.

"Eds."

"Richie, please don't call me that after I just said all...that shit." Eddie laughed sadly, a few lost tears showing up in his eyes. "I know this probably doesn't make any sense, does it?" He questioned with a laugh that Richie was thankful to hear.

"Eddie."

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Silent. Again. How often could the two of them be met with this awfulness, Richie was sure he would lose count before the night was over.

What the fuck was Eddie's new one thought. He wanted to scream, wanted to plead that Richie wasn't messing with him, but he had asked him to take what he said seriously, so there was no way Richie could be messing with him, right?

"Richie, don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Don't fucking ask me something like that, what the hell are you doing?"

Richie shrugged, "asking if I can kiss you?"

"Why?" Eddie scooted back in his bed, back against the wall. "Why are you asking me that?"

Richie, suddenly looking scared backed up, too, "shit, I'm sorry, is that crossing a line?"

"Yeah, fuckface, I think it is." Eddie looked about ready to cry again. "Don't mess with me like that after I told you everything, that's mean."

Richie thought Eddie was going to kick him out, thought that Eddie thought he was disgusting, until he accused him of joking. "Eds, I'm not messing with you. I don't want you to feel lonely."

Eddie ignored him, rambling on, "That's so mean of you, what the fuck, don't try to pity me like that, when you know how much I like you."

"Eddie, stop, I'm not messing with you." Richie was starting to grin now, hearing Eddie admit the fact. His fear of messing up faded away.

Eddie paused, the grinning catching him off guard. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better? You don't have to kiss me just because you think it's going to make me feel better."

"Eddie Kaspbrak, I want to kiss you." Richie breathed deeply, nervous, "not just because I want you to feel better, but because I like you. I like you so much."

"You don't think...Richie, you like me?" Eddie wanted to pinch himself, asking whatever God was listening how he got here.

Richie chuckled, "have I not been obvious?" He got slightly closer to Eddie, who leaned in.

Eddie shook his head, "No. No, you've always talked about girls and, and, and, how you like them, and you're always talking about my mom.

"To annoy you because it's cute to see you get all angry." Richie pointed out.

"I just thought you were annoying."

"But also charming, right?" Richie asked.

"Shut up."

"Again with the shut up?"

"Yes."

"Eddie, I really do like you. I like you so much."

"Why?"

"Well, because you're you."

Eddie laughed loudly now. For such a watery confession, Richie wasn't great with his words. "Because I'm me. Not because I just spewed out a bunch of words about how I want someone?"

"You want someone to like you, I like you."

"Because I'm me."

"Because you're so pretty."

Eddie's ears went red. "For such an ass, you say stupid cheesy things. I just cried and you're being an idiot."

Richie proudly grinned. "But don't you feel less lonely knowing I like you and your pretty face?"

Eddie looked down at his hands. "Looks aren't everything, Tozier. And I still don't think you should confess something like that after I cried about how lonely I am."

"Never said I was good at timing. Besides, Beverly probably fully expects me to confess tonight, anyways."

"Really?" Shocked, Eddie drew his knees to his chest.

"Really." Richie nodded. There were tears in his eyes. "I came here because I hate it when you're upset and I can't make you laugh. I really like you. I don't want you to feel lonely."

Eddie was suddenly pressing his lips to Richie's. The kiss was wet with both sadness and happiness, desperate but soft. It was a first kiss in every way and a last, an ending to all the pining the two of them had been through.

They parted with a gasp, Richie's hands in Eddie's hair, Eddie's own hands on Richie's shoulders. It was purely enough and the ache for more was coming up from their stomachs.

Richie kissed him again, but parted from him much quicker, desperate to say everything he needed.

"I love you." Richie bit his bottom lip hard, taking in everything before him. "And not just how you know I do. I love you in that stupid, romantic way.

"You do?" Eddie questioned, jumping at the confession, one of many that night.

"Are you going to keep answering all of my confessions with questions?" Richie ruffled his fingers into Eddie's hair.

Eddie stuck out his tongue. "No."

"Sure."

"I love you, too." Eddie responded after a moment. "I do. In that stupid, romantic way."

"I would hope so." Richie pressed a kiss to Eddie's cheek. "Do you feel better?"

Eddie nodded. "I do. I really do. I think I just needed to talk about it. And admit everything."

"You mean how much you like me?"

"Richie."

"I know, I know, I'll shut up." Richie's hand went to his cheek. "How about tomorrow we all talk about it together? So we can get a clear plan as to how we'll see each other in school, and make plans to grab lunch at least once a week for whoever is in the state? And we'll have time to call each other, okay? We'll make it clear that we all really really like you."

Eddie took in all the ideas that Richie hurled at him. "Okay. Okay, I think I would like that."

"Good." Richie kissed him again. "I'd like that a lot."

"And me?" Eddie mused, the teasing air that had once filled the room back.

"I really love you. Just trying to get me to say it, huh?" Richie faked annoyance with a shake of his head. "But, I do love you. You're irreplaceable. My irreplaceable Eddie Kaspbrak." He was never going to let Eddie feel lonely again.

"Maybe." Eddie shrugged. "But, you do love me."

"I'll love you today, I'll love you tomorrow, and every day after that." Richie's lip quivered, shaking with the million other things he wanted to say.

"And?" Eddie's head tilted, begging Richie to keep talking, to hold his own against the silence in the room.

Richie let his breath escape his lips before saying, "I'll like you, always. I'll like you, always."

That was good enough for Eddie Kaspbrak, everything he needed: to not be loved, but liked.


End file.
